


sweet dreams are made of this

by soundofez



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Gratuitous Smut, NSFW, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-12-10 15:08:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/787421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soundofez/pseuds/soundofez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>sweet dreams are made of this</i>
  <br/>
  <i>who am i to disagree</i>
  <br/>
  <i>i travel the world and the seven seas</i>
  <br/>
  <i>everybody's looking for something</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>a little less than safe for work.<br/>technically part of my 'what you thought you need' series, but it ups the rating unnecessarily so i've left it out</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Proposal [T]

She finds it on the bathroom counter on her way into the shower, hesitates, picks it up and opens it. Moments later she is flying out of the bathroom, stark naked, towel forgone, and a little after that she is tackling him from behind as he's pulling up his trousers. He makes a startled sound when she collides into him, and another when he realizes that she is naked, and still another when she whirls him around (or maybe whirls around him, the world is spinning too much for him to be certain) to kiss him.

She is giggling madly as he extricates himself from her hold, and he doesn't know if he should be surprised when she holds up the box in explanation. He had plans for a dinner and a vacation, but he realizes now he shouldn't have even expected to need them. He could have tossed the box at her after dinner and she would have done just what she is doing now, although she would perhaps have clothes on.

He steals the box back, grinning boyishly, and she hops onto the bed while he opens it and removes its contents. She holds out her hand, grinning more widely, her feet kicking excitably, and he takes her hand and smiles at her and slides the ring onto her finger.


	2. Request [E]

She is uncertain, hesitant, but not entirely unwilling as he feared she would be. She only asked for equivalent exchange, and he thinks it fair enough.

Her hands are wrapped around his member, now lightly, now firmly, dragging at the skin curiously. She isn't quite looking at it, but again she is not unwilling. He breathes in slowly, carefully, and raises his hand to her backside.

She dares to glance toward his eyes. Her cheeks are flushed. He prods his fingers cautiously at her flesh and is caught off guard by the softness of it. His fingers sink into her folds easily, coat and slide and drag at the skin.

He can sense the small noises coming from her throat, whimpers and moans. She is quivering, yet her hands still stroke insistently on him, and then she breathes and pauses and leans forward and **wow**.

She doesn't even really have him in her mouth yet; rather, her tongue is a thicker, wetter appendage stroking him in tandem with her fingers. His own stall, and she makes a sound that buzzes pleasantly through his nerves. Her thighs shove his fingers against her as she starts to grind helplessly, but he's too busy **breathing** to be able to respond in kind. She doesn't stop, though— servicing him must be infathomably arousing somehow, though he doubts through the haze of pleasure that she enjoys the taste. Instead, she fastens her lips around the side of his cock and tentatively sucks the feeling straight out of his limbs, and he collapses under her with a guttural groan. She whimpers, and he finds her wetness rubbing helplessly against his chin, seeking relief.

He forces himself to raise one hand and slips a knuckle against her, trying to get her off his chin (which is just _awkward_ ) but mostly only succeeding in sinking his knuckle **into** her. He's fascinated still by how squishy it is, like a gleaming gooey marshmallow, but with less stick and more slide. He identifies the consistency as something like lotion and maybe more like his jizz, but he doesn't get to keep thinking about it because suddenly her fingers have found his balls and thinking got that much harder. His breathing is uneven again, and to distract himself he shoves his fingers against her folds vaguely. It's purely by accident that one of them actually slides in, prompting a startled whimper from her, which in turn makes his eyes roll into his head at the vibration.

The slickness is trickling slowly along the inside of her thighs, and he turns his head to taste some curiously. He can't describe the flavor, though; it lies completely beyond his comprehension, which confuses him but makes sense at the same time. He wouldn't say he wants more of it, but she has fastened her lips over his head and he thinks he might cum soon, so he reciprocates and prods his tongue around his fingers. The helpless sound she makes tingles into his body and blinds him.

He realizes when he can see again that he probably should have warned her, because she has sat up partially, her head turned toward him, jizz dripping down her face and over her hand and from her mouth, which is hanging open. The look on her face is bewildered and a little disgusted and also that is probably panic, which makes him want to laugh but also makes him feel a little ashamed with himself, so he pulls himself out from under her and tries to lead her to the bathroom but then remembers that he's just cum and his legs aren't going to work any time soon.

By the time he's gotten himself rebalanced some of the cum is gone, and he realizes that she must have swallowed it. Judging by the revolted look on her face, she isn't too pleased about it, and he manages to get out a "Shit, I'm sorry," while she continues making that face and tries to scrub her tongue with the bed sheet.

She shakes her head, and a few moments later tells him, "Should've expected it? I guess. I just— really underestimated how gross it would be. Pleasedon'ttrykissingmenow. For your sake."

He snorts faintly, embarassed, but at least she doesn't seem angry at him. "Do you want to— I don't know. Brush your teeth or something?"

"I don't think my legs will move," she admits. "This is really gross," she adds, staring at her hand uncertainly, because it's still covered in his jizz and he knows she's enough of a clean freak that she doesn't want to wipe it on the sheets.

"They're already nasty, we'll just wash 'em tomorrow," he tells her, taking her hand and cleaning it on the sheets. She makes a horrified sound nevertheless.

He tugs her into his lap so they can sit in lazy silence curled around one another. He's almost asleep when she says, "Shower."

"What."

"Next time. Shower?"

He deliberates for a moment. "Don't think so. Don't think I could make it out."

She pouts. "Can we work on that?"

He buries his face in her neck and groans in protest. She sighs regretfully. "Good night, then."

"Mmph."


End file.
